Come, Freedom: lay me on your sands,
And soothe my pain with healing hands;
For everywhere I go, I see
More pain, more strife, more misery

A sickness lies upon this land;
It’s mountains, rivers, cities spanned
By pestilential wretchedness
The harbors murk, the country’s mess

But, Freedom: you can change all this.
The slow release of your fair kiss —
Please, let me close my eyes and be
At one with you
And you
With me